


alone with myself

by Rethira



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Rekka no Ken
Genre: Gen, Genderqueer Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-25
Updated: 2014-07-25
Packaged: 2018-02-10 09:21:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2019687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rethira/pseuds/Rethira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>‘Legault’ is just the latest in a long, long line of names – they’ve forgotten what their first name even was. In all their childhood memories, they can’t hear their name at all, and well. Legault doesn’t have family left to remember it.</p>
<p>Legault and <i>Hurricane</i> are their names now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	alone with myself

**Author's Note:**

> my nagamas fic for [glitteringworlds](http://glitteringworlds.tumblr.com/)!
> 
> you asked for genderfluid Legault and I did my best to deliver! I hope you enjoy it!

They get into this business accidentally. Not, _oops I fell over_ accidentally, but _I happen to know a person who might require your skills_ accidentally, and from then it grew and grew and grew and well. If Legault was happy about one thing it was that now, no-one ever said, “You can’t do that, you’re a....”

No-one ever tells the assassin they can’t do something.

Furthermore, no-one tells Legault that they can’t be Legault. That they can’t go out alone, that they can’t stay in here, that they can’t be seen out wearing that, that they can’t even _buy_ that-

No-one tells Legault anything, except who to kill next.

It’s freeing, and very, very lonely.

“I’m what they call a _silencer_ ,” Legault says, and the woman who had been resting peaceably on their shoulder leaps to her feet and tries to cut their throat.

“I’m who they call when someone’s been very naughty indeed,” Legault says, and the man who just ordered them another beer almost shoots a crossbow bolt between their eyes.

“I’m the last person you’ll ever see,” Legault says, and the child-who-isn’t-a-child smiles widely and almost cuts Legault’s leg off.

No-one tells Legault anything, except who to kill next, and even then they don’t hang around.

This is the freedom of _being_ , Legault learns. This is the price for being Legault. Blood-stained hands and no-one to talk to.

(It’s worth it.)

 

Occasionally, there aren’t people to kill, but there is a place to infiltrate. A place that requires Legault’s skills, and, more to the point, requires _Legault_.

They give them the necessary clothing, and some of the men spit at Legault and call them hateful names, but they’re not the one who gets paid for this. They’re not the one with the knives. They’re not the one who might, sometimes, take a fierce and vicious kind of pleasure in cutting a man’s throat for the words he’s said.

The point is that Legault is the one chosen for the jobs that require someone to put on a red light – Legault wears the dress or thin shirts, _Legault_ the one chosen to pretend to sell their services to anyone who wants them. And Legault will gain access to their homes, their businesses, and there Legault will do their job – theft, usually, and isn’t it fun to knock their customer out first.

These excursions are enjoyable, but they’re the minority.

Legault doesn’t mind at all.

(It’s still worth it.)

 

Once upon a time, Legault was called by a different name.

Actually, scratch that, they’ve been known by lots of different names. ‘Legault’ is just the latest in a long, long line of names – they’ve forgotten what their first name even was. In all their childhood memories, they can’t hear their name at all, and well. Legault doesn’t have family left to remember it.

Legault and _Hurricane_ are their names now.

They’re good names, Legault thinks. Nice, proper names – they can be Legault and they can be the Hurricane and they’re not expected to be anyone or anything else.

Just Legault.

Any other name they’ve had, they’ve forgotten.

(But it’s worth it.)

 

Nino calls them _Uncle_ , but that’s- well, they can live with that, and Nino never asks, “Uncle Legault, why are you wearing a dress?”

Actually, Nino helps sew Legault some nice dresses, and steals some of her mother’s makeup and they have a very entertaining evening figuring out what colours Legault can get away with wearing (purple, mostly, and a few shades of green). Linus walks in at one point, and there’s something extremely amusing about watching a skinny, somewhat awkward young man flail over seeing Legault putting on a stolen dress.

“You look great, Uncle Legault!” Nino exclaims, and then she turns to Linus and says, “Doesn’t Uncle Legault look great, Linus?”

Linus nods rapidly, ears going slightly pink, and he won’t actually look up from the floor but he says, in a voice that cracks a little, “Yeah, it looks great.”

Maybe he’s not being entirely sincere, but he says it anyway and this? This is more approval and acceptance than Legault’s had in- hah! More acceptance than they’ve _ever_ had.

Lloyd opens the door and says, “Legault, Father was looking for you- oh. Ah. You look nice.”

Legault grins and winks at Lloyd, pats Nino on the head and says, “I’ll go and see him then.”

(Sometimes Legault feels vulnerable like this, but it’s worth it.)

 

There are more jobs these days – more jobs that require the Hurricane, that require secrets and bloody knives. More of their once-friends turned enemies.

More death on their hands.

But Legault can live with this. Legault can live this way, knowing that at any moment Brendan might send them out to kill someone they care about. Lloyd and Linus view them with more suspicion now, although Nino remains oblivious.

They’ve told her what it is they do, but Nino has never begun to understand, Legault thinks.

And well, Legault is not the only silencer these days. Not even the most _trusted_ silencer – Sonia’s Angel of Death holds _that_ position these days, child though he may be.

More jobs, more death and every day Brendan looks more tired, more worn and grey and....

(For this family they have, small though it is, it’s worth it.)

 

There are people in the Fang who don’t know Legault now. People Legault doesn’t know either, and they’d always made it their business to know who everyone was. And there are _so many_ people Legault has to silence these days. It seems that Sonia trusts nobody – and it’s her who runs the Fang now, even Brendan must be aware of that. His Black Fang, stolen from under his nose.

Linus and Lloyd talk around getting rid of her, but they’re still their father’s sons at heart and won’t act unless he orders it. And there’s Nino, of course. Dear, innocent Nino, still clinging to whatever scraps of love she thinks her mother gave her.

This isn’t the Fang Legault came to. They doubt it ever will be again.

(Their family is disappearing, but even so. It’s worth it.)

 

It’s a decision a long time coming; not one they make lightly at all. But their enemies are at the gates, breaking down the door, in both a metaphorical and literal sense, and Legault has never been one to stay on a sinking ship.

They’d already made their goodbyes; Nino will be upset, they imagine, but she has Lloyd and Linus to keep her safe, and they have each other. And Brendan? Brendan will understand. That’s what family’s for, after all.

Loyalty never was worth a damn in this business. That’s why people like Legault exist in the first place. To _make_ loyalty worth it.

Legault sighs and slips a dagger back into its sheath. An army at the gates means a distraction, if nothing else. And who knows? Maybe this young Lord Eliwood will prove to take after his father.

Maybe Legault will find somewhere else to be Legault.

The Fang isn’t that place anymore.

(It’s not worth it anymore.)


End file.
